


Whips and High Kicks

by agentmoppet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blink and you'll miss it though -- very implied, Dancing, F/F, Pining, RST, Slow Dancing, UST, implied BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 07:34:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13336455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentmoppet/pseuds/agentmoppet
Summary: The Harpies sign up for some extra training in the form of dance classes. It's just a shame Ginny sucks at dancing. It's even more of a shame that Pansy Parkinson is their instructor.





	Whips and High Kicks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [untilourapathy (gwendolen_lotte)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwendolen_lotte/gifts).



> Thank you so much danascullys for your amazing beta skills! 
> 
> Gwen, this one is for you, for putting the idea of bodysuits and joggers so firmly into my mind that I couldn't escape it.
> 
> I would also like to take the opportunity to blame each and every one of you in the discord chat for making me ship Rormac.

Ginny knew she was fucked the moment she walked into the dance studio. Their instructor was warming up, feeling the vibe of the music as if she had no audience and ignoring the slow trickle of Quidditch players arriving. Possibly, she was working out the final steps of whatever she was teaching them today, or maybe she just transformed into some sort of pirouetting goddess whenever there was music playing, like it was a part of her blood or something; Ginny wouldn’t be surprised.

Whatever the reason for the impromptu performance, Ginny stumbled over her feet the second she laid eyes on her instructor, nearly crashing into her team mates and doing a brilliant impression of a goldfish.

Then, her instructor turned around, and Ginny realised that the problem wasn’t that she was fucked; it was that she wasn’t fucked, and wasn’t likely to be fucked any time in the near future, because her instructor was Pansy Parkinson, and holy shit if she hadn’t grown up into the hottest woman Ginny had ever seen.

Pansy stared at her, coming to a sudden halt that happened to time perfectly with the music. Her eyes were wide with shock and a touch of something that looked like… fear? It faded away as she spun around and turned off the music with a flick of her hand.

Wandless magic.

Ginny dug her nails into her palms to stop herself from groaning and making herself look like a right twat.

“Is that everyone, then?” Pansy leant her hip against the stereo—a strange contraption that looked part Muggle and part wizard—and glared at all of them.

Strangely, it wasn’t the same expression she used to wear at Hogwarts. It had the same fire, the same immediate readiness to fight, but it lacked the anger from before. Ginny stared at her, unable to reconcile this new Pansy with the one in her memory.

“Fuck,” Ginny muttered, softly and with feeling.

“Alright, babes,” Pansy said, her voice dropping for a brief moment into an American accent. Ginny wondered where she had studied these last few years. “Has anybody here danced before?”

A couple of Ginny’s team mates raised their hands; she felt instantly betrayed. Gwenog in particular had promised her that she wouldn’t be the worst dancer on the team, but there she was waving her hand in the air and grinning.

Pansy wrinkled her nose. It was a cute nose. Really cute.

“That’s not too bad, I suppose.” She pushed away from the stereo and came to the front of the room. “We’ll start with a warm up.”

With a wave of her hand, the stereo started blasting again—a different song this time, much louder, the beat thudding somewhere in Ginny’s chest. Pansy jumped into a wide-legged stance, managing to make even that movement look like a strut, and began slowly tilting her head from side to side in time with the rhythm. Everyone scrambled to copy her, Ginny following slowly behind.

“Stretch it out, nice and slow.” Pansy spun around to face the mirror and began stretching her arms across her body.

If Ginny had been asked, she couldn’t have said what her own body was doing. She guessed it was following along—hoped it was—but all she could see was the way Pansy’s thighs filled the material of her joggers as she dropped forward into a low bend, arms up, and began to pulse.

“What the bloody hell?” she hissed to herself, spitting out mouthfuls of bright red hair. She struggled to look upwards and make sure she was doing the right thing, while still bending over like everyone else.

She was, but that was roughly the last point in the class that she was able to say that with confidence. The warm up quickly turned into what Ginny would have called dancing, if she wasn’t so bad at it. Pansy yelled the word ‘isolate’ repeatedly like it meant something.

“Isolate?” Ginny muttered, holding her hands out to the side and trying copy the strange, rolling hip movement that Valmai was somehow perfecting in front of her. “How can I bloody isolate? I’m all one person, aren’t I?”

Then, the music stopped, and her six team mates fell about laughing and smiling while Ginny struggled to find a reasonable point to look at in the room that wasn’t the drop of sweat currently rolling into Pansy’s cleavage.

“Brilliant!” Pansy stood with her hands on her hips, the corner of her lips twitching up into a smile. “You lot might be all right after all.”

Warmth spread through Ginny’s chest. She looked away when Pansy made eye contact with her.

“Whaddya mean, we might be all right?” Wilda shot back, laughing. “We’re athletes; we’re not gonna suck.”

Pansy laughed. “You athletes are the worst, because that’s exactly what you all think. Just because you can wave a bat around and not fall over, Griffiths, doesn’t mean you can pull off a soutenu pique without looking like you’re trying not to step in dog shit.”

She knew their names. She knew their names _and_ their positions, and she hadn’t even looked at the medical forms. Ginny’s heart stammered; was Pansy a Harpies fan? Did she watch their games?

“It’s just a bonding exercise, right?” Valmai whined, shuffling her feet back and forth. “We don’t actually have to be good at the end.”

“It’s more than that, girls,” Gwenog insisted, her voice instantly taking on the tone it did during pre-match talk. “It’s about learning old skills in new ways: balance, synergy, spatial awareness!”

The team nodded along with various degrees of enthusiasm, but most seemed to buy it. Even Ginny could see the logic; she just also happened to need to get out of this room before she did something stupid like ask their dance instructor how she liked her eggs in the morning.

“All right, babes, we’re going to start simple!” Pansy snapped back to attention and began to talk them through the first part of the routine.

Within five minutes, Ginny was hopelessly lost and furiously trying to work out the best way to take revenge on Gwenog. Ginny was absolutely the worst in the class, by a long shot. Even Pansy was starting to look a little daunted.

“Left!” Pansy yelled, looking straight at Ginny.

Ginny stepped.

“Other left!” Pansy shrieked.

Ginny stepped left and turned, deliberately screwing up the turn so that she could continue facing the other way for a moment.

She didn’t mind being the worst in the class—these were her teammates, she didn’t care about making an arse of herself in front of them. She didn’t care about making an arse of herself in front of anyone. When she had insisted to Gwenog that she had better not be the only one who couldn’t dance, she’d only wanted to make sure the class was fun and that they’d all have a bit of a laugh, instead of her six team mates abandoning her to chasse down the room like divas.

She’d seen Angelina spill curry down the entire front of her shirt and then scoop it back off and eat it; she wasn’t a diva.

But as it turned out, there was someone who she didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of. And that person happened to be standing in front of her and running her eyes slowly up and down Ginny’s body.

“Your balance is off,” Pansy said suddenly, her dark eyes snapping up to Ginny’s. For a moment, something unreadable passed across them, but then it was gone. “Where are you looking when you turn?”

Ginny wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know? The wall?”

“Which wall?”

“Whichever bloody wall I’m facing at the time.”

Pansy snorted. “Well, that’s your problem. Here, watch this, I’ll slow it down as much as I can.”

Ginny tried to pay attention, noting the way that Pansy’s gaze lingered on the same spot for as long as possible, even as her body turned away, before she whipped her head around even faster than the rest of her.

“Just like that,” Ginny deadpanned when Pansy was facing her again.

“Just like that,” Pansy agreed with a smirk.

Ginny tried it, preparing to fall over again, but to her surprise she only wobbled a little this time.

“It worked!” she yelped before she could stop herself.

Somehow, Pansy’s smug smile didn’t infuriate her, but rather brought her neatly back around to the same unfortunate problem she’d walked into from the start.

“From the top!”

Pansy walked back to the front of the room, and Ginny tried very hard to follow the rest of the lesson properly, if only because she wanted to see Pansy smile like that again.

***

“I don’t understand why I need extra lessons,” Ginny glared at Gwenog over the top of her coffee mug. “It’s not fair.”

Gwenog raised one eyebrow.

“No, I know _that_.” Ginny waved her hand dismissively, turning to glare out the window and into the bustling shopping strip, since glaring at Gwenog didn’t seem to be helping anything. “I mean this was just meant to be some extra training; why does it matter if I’m a bit crap?”

“Because you’re missing out on key skills.” Gwenog stared at her, her Welsh accent becoming thicker in her confusion. Drifts of steam floated up from her mug and fogged her glasses. “The other girls have made leaping improvements.”

“Yes, I know,” Ginny muttered. “I just—” she broke off.

This was ridiculous. She’d been here before, and she wasn’t about to revert to her teenage self and start falling behind in everything around her just because some crush had thrown her off centre. She was stronger than this.

She dropped her mug down onto the table with a loud thunk. “I want to ask her out, but I don’t think she’s interested.”

Gwenog blinked, then slowly set down her cup and took her glasses off to clean them. By the time she’d put them back on, she was smirking. “Well, then, those extra lessons sound perfect, don’t they? You’ll have all the time in the world to find out.”

Ginny laughed so hard that the passing waiter nearly dropped his tray in alarm. She reached out and caught it before it could fall.

“I guess,” she admitted, passing the tray back to the waiter and trying to hide her smile.

Maybe it was a good thing. But at the same time—what was she getting herself into? She ran a hand through her hair and stared at the table. How did someone go about courting Pansy Parkinson? Surely that was just asking to get smacked.

“Perfect!” Gwenog said brightly. “I’ll tell her you’re in for the extra lessons, then?”

“Fine,” Ginny agreed before she could change her mind.

Gwenog smirked into her coffee mug again. “Brill. She’s going to be so up for this, Gin. You should’ve seen her face when I suggested it. She almost blushed.”

Ginny choked on her coffee, spluttering on a large gulp of piping-hot liquid. “She what?”

Gwenog cackled. “You should invite her to a game. Show off all your moves.” She dragged out the word and leaned across the table to nudge Ginny in the arm.

“Somehow, I don’t think having her watch me get pummelled by the Wasps is going to make her want to date me.” She swatted Gwenog’s hand away.

“Maybe it’ll make her think of a different sort of—”

“Oi!” Ginny pointed a threatening finger. “Don’t make me hex you. You know I don’t like that kind of locker room talk.”

“Sorry.” Gwenog held up her hands apologetically. “Forgot. What are you going to do then?”

Ginny pulled a face. “I think I’m going to have to learn to dance.”

***

Ginny’s first extra lesson was scheduled straight after their group class that Saturday morning. She got dressed with a little more care than usual, selecting a pair of black joggers and a loose tank top that she thought wouldn’t be too annoying to sweat in. Up until now, she had been wearing her hair pulled back in a rough ponytail and no make-up, because that’s how she always trained with the others. But for the first time she tried to consider these sessions as something where she was actually leaving the house—seeing the outside world. Possibly trying to impress it in the process. She twisted her hair up into a high bun, sped through her make-up, and Apparated.

“I was running through the routine last night,” Pansy said once they had all filed in, her eyes bright with enthusiasm, her cheeks flushed, “and I figured out what it’s missing.” She bit her lip, holding back a smirk, and looked around at them all with one eyebrow raised. “Whips!” She revealed the arm she’d been holding behind her back and cracked the small whip with a fierce snap.

Her eyes landed on Ginny for the first time and widened almost imperceptibly. Though, Ginny couldn’t be certain if it was because of her appearance, or if it was because of the expression of abject horror on her face as she eyed the whip in Pansy’s hand. Her glance did drag up and down Ginny’s body very quickly, so there was hope.

She heard someone snicker, and looked up to see Gwenog covering her mouth with her hand and failing to act normal.

“Ooh, sexy!” Valmai cackled and crossed the room to the box of whips. “Can we pick a colour?”

“Whatever you like,” Pansy said. “Have a go at cracking them—it’s all in the wrist. They’re magical of course, so they’re very simple to use. Let’s have a bit of fun with them!” 

Ginny whimpered.

Before long, they had run through their warm up and jumped straight into the routine. She could follow along now without tripping or knocking anyone else over, but she still couldn’t seem to hit the timing of the music. It was so different to flying.

“Feel the musicality, Weasley!” Pansy yelled at her. “Bring it!”

Bring what? She was bringing everything she could, and she was still fucking it up. And now Pansy had put a literal weapon in her hand, so that was just great. No possible way this could go wrong.

Ginny couldn’t articulate all of that in the middle of a barrel roll, so she just snarled.

Pansy’s head whipped to hers, staring at her in the mirror in surprise at the noise. The little flicker of something that Ginny kept seeing on her face was there again, gone in an instant. Was it interest? Or was she just kidding herself?

She shoved it all from her mind and focused on not injuring herself. Before she knew it, the class was over and her teammates were clapping her on the shoulder and abandoning her. Gwenog was the last to leave. She winked at Ginny as she went, pulling the door shut behind her with a heavy thud.

Pansy shoved her short, black bob roughly out of her eyes and studied Ginny.

“So, I’ve been thinking about what to do with you,” she said, pursing her lips and folding her arms.

Ginny’s heart stuttered. Pansy continued unaware.

“And I think we need to go through it all slowly so I can figure out where you’re going wrong.”

“Dancing,” Ginny said with authority. “Dancing is where I’m going wrong.”

Pansy snorted. “Everyone can dance, Weasley. We just need to try a little harder to get you there.”

A strange sense of pride and warmth swelled in her chest, but she ignored it. “You’ve known me since I was eleven—you should call me Ginny.”

Pansy blinked at her. “Well I—” Her eyes drifted to the side. “I suppose so.” She smirked, regaining her composure. “Come on, Ginny. Let’s dance.”

The studio seemed to hold its breath in the seconds between Pansy’s words and when the music started—or maybe that was just Ginny. She swallowed and took several steps backward, so she had room to move. With just the two of them in the studio, Ginny was hyper-aware of every movement, every note. This time when the music kicked in, she wasn’t distracted by Gwenog’s high kicks or Angelina’s perfect pirouette. She wasn’t bothered by the exerted breaths of her team mates, and she didn’t feel the need to pretend she wasn’t watching every move Pansy made. They were the only two in here—she was _meant_ to be watching Pansy.

Before long, she was sure that Pansy was watching her too. Their eyes met more and more in the mirror, but instead of being thrown off balance and losing her step, Ginny felt strangely steadier, more confident. Again, she was reminded of how different this woman was to the one she had gone to school with—different, yet the same. There was no doubt that this Pansy was just as strong as the girl she remembered, that her presence still filled a room, but there was also no question that she was no longer searching for attention, like the insecure teenager she had been.

Her gaze was thoughtful, warm, as she assessed Ginny’s technique, almost visibly making notes on corrections and adjustments. She was here to help Ginny—thrived on teaching others, on sharing her love of music and dance—and Ginny wasn’t sure that she had ever been more attracted to anything in her life.

The song ended, and Ginny managed not to fall over. Pansy’s face brightened with pride and Ginny desperately wanted to close the distance between them and kiss her.

“Hey,” she began, trying to think of a way to word her question without coming on too strong, or ruining what they had tentatively formed between them.

“I think I know what you’re doing wrong!” Pansy said at the same time.

Ginny stopped, hesitating as she saw how excited Pansy was at the idea of helping her, at the idea of progress. What if Ginny was reading everything wrong? What if Pansy was only interested in their dancing, nothing more?

“You need to focus,” Pansy continued, unaware of Ginny’s silent battle. “You’re too distracted by the rest of them in here. That was _so_ much better, what you just did. Let’s try again—really feel the music this time. And I think you should try meditating at home; your thoughts are clearly taking over.”

Wasn’t that the truth?

Ginny bit her lip to avoid laughing and stepped back to the corner, where she started. She needed to work out whether or not she had a chance here, or if she was better off letting their budding friendship grow naturally, with nothing more. She needed to know if Pansy was genuinely into _her_ , or if she was just really into dancing. Fortunately, she knew the perfect person to ask.

And for now, she would try to just feel the music.

***

As it happened, classes became a little easier after that. Ginny found it easier than expected to forget about finding a solution to her problem, because she was busy enjoying dancing.

But the little things kept adding up—lingering glances, a touch here and there when correcting her form, secret smiles—until she couldn’t ignore it anymore. She needed to get some advice.

“Gin!” Ron beamed at her, drawing her into the corridor, into a big hug, and shutting the front door behind her. “What’re you doing here? I haven’t seen you in weeks!”

“Who’s that?” A booming voice called from the kitchen. “Did I hear your sister’s voice, mate?”

“Hi Cormac!” Ginny called back, just as her brother’s boyfriend—wearing nothing but loose joggers paired with a sweat-band on his head—emerged into the hall.

“Gin!” Cormac roared, pulling her into a one-armed hug and clapping her on the back so hard she nearly fell over. “I saw your practice last week. Bro! You’re all like, ripped as!” He stepped back to squeeze both her biceps, beaming at her arms with a mix of pride and awe. “When’s your next training sesh? I wanna come and get some tips.”

“Friday,” Ginny said, smacking him on the butt and laughing. “Five am. Don’t be late.”

“I’ll be there!” He grinned, the words drowned out by a timer coming from the kitchen. “Oh, crap, gotta get the oven!” He backed out of the room, pointing at her sharply. “Five am. I’ll bring my new protein bars; they’re to die for!”

The second he was out of sight, she fell back against the wall, cackling at the look of sheepish adoration on her brother’s face.

“You’re so gone,” she said, covering her smile with her hand.

“I know.” Ron sighed. “So, so gone.” He shook his head and turned back to her. “Want to come sit down? Cormac’s just finished baking a cake.”

She shook her head. “I can’t stay long. I just wanted to ask you something.”

Ron raised his eyebrows. “Me? What did you want to ask me?”

“Just...” She folded her arms and stared in the direction of the kitchen, trying to find the right phrasing. “How did you know he was into you?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, you got together because you were helping each other out at the gym, right? How did you know he wasn’t just _really_ into helping you increase your deadlift?”

Ron blinked. “Well, he was. He pushed me up ten pounds in a week. Guy’s a legend.”

Ginny ran her palm over her face and fought the urge to groan. “You’re just as bad as each other, I swear.”

When she looked up, Ron was grinning at her, and she had the sudden impression she’d done exactly what he expected her to do.

“I don’t know a single person who’s a better or more dedicated athlete than you, Gin,” he said seriously, the fond smile still on his face. “If you’re sitting here worried that this girl, whoever she is, is only interested in training with you—or whatever’s going on—don’t you think she might be thinking the same thing? Only ten times worse?”

Ginny’s eyes widened.

“You’ll know if it’s just the training she’s into,” he said, his own eyes flicking back to the kitchen. “Everyone’s different, but you’ll know.” He looked back at her, his brow creasing into a frown. “And since when do you worry about those things anyway? Just ask.”

Just ask. Seemed so simple, when he put it like that.

“Cake’s ready!” Cormac stuck his head into the hallway. Somehow he had gotten icing on his nose.

“Sure you can’t stay?” Ron asked her.

Ginny laughed. “All right, I’ll stay for a piece.”

“Sick!” Cormac fist-pumped the air. “We can watch Gilmore Girls!” He disappeared again.

“No we can’t,” Ron muttered to her as they followed him into the living room.

“Oh?”

“I snapped the disc.”

“Oops.”

“It’s a tragedy.”

***

Wednesday’s class was harder than any she had done before.

Everyone was tired from training that morning, and it was raining outside; no one had wanted to leave the showers. But the second Pansy saw them—all shuffling in with their heads hung low—she kicked the box of whips into the centre of the room and cracked hers so loudly Angelina nearly fell over.

“Perk up!” she said with a smirk. “Only a few sessions left!”

“Oh, what?!” Katie yelped while the others complained in surprise. Even Ginny felt a jolt of regret. “Really?”

“For now,” Gwenog interrupted quickly. “Don’t have the budget for more. But if we see results, we can push a case for it!”

Pansy cracked her whip again, and they all rushed to pick theirs and get in line. When Ginny stopped to take the last one, Pansy came over to retrieve the box, and their eyes met. Pansy’s fingers caressed the whip in her right hand almost unconsciously as they stood there, the movement flooding Ginny’s stomach with heat.

To her disappointment, Pansy seemed unaffected, turning away and taking her place at the front of the studio.

Well, better to know for sure. The second they were alone, she was going to ask.

She pushed the thought aside, letting the music fill her and her body take over. Before long, she was strutting and spinning with the rest of them, punching out the moves and cracking her whip in perfect timing. She could feel it in her chest, thudding along like another heartbeat, and every time she saw her whip snap through the air in synchronised motion with the others, she felt a little spark run through her fingertips.

But it was still entirely different to the spark that ignited in her when she caught Pansy’s eye.

The second the door closed behind the others, she crossed the room and leant against the table, beside where Pansy was changing tracks on the stereo.

Ginny watched her as she worked. Today, she wore a slim grey bodysuit underneath her white joggers, the sides of the body suit cutting high up on her hips while the joggers hung low. Ginny dragged her eyes away from the sight and found Pansy watching her, one eyebrow raised.

“I thought we could try a different dance today,” Pansy said, the words coming out in a little rush. “Since you’re all caught up with the others now. I don’t think you need the extra sessions anymore.”

Ginny’s eyebrows shot up, but before she could question it, the music began, slow and pulsing like waves on the shore. Pansy reached out a hand, and, feeling a little giddy, Ginny took it and allowed herself to be led into the centre of the studio.

“I don’t know the moves,” Ginny protested as Pansy began to lead her in slow steps, following an underlying musicality in the song that she could only _just_ hear, but somehow could feel deep in her body.

Pansy shrugged. “You’re doing fine.”

The music built around them, echoing off the walls, just soft enough that the quietest parts felt like a whisper, but loud enough that the bass rumbled through the wooden floor beneath their feet.

“I told you everyone can dance,” Pansy said suddenly, her face breaking into an enormous smile, so bright and alive and happy that Ginny couldn’t look away.

Her heart stuttered, and she was so captured within the moment—so utterly entranced by the woman before her—that she couldn’t even remember how to smile back.

Pansy hesitated, the smile fading, and so Ginny gave her head a little shake and grinned back until the two of them were spinning slowly around together, smiling like idiots.

The music faded, and Pansy stepped back.

“Hey, Pansy,” Ginny said, shoving her hands in her pockets and charging verbally forward before she could change her mind. “Any chance you might want to go out with me?”

Pansy’s eyebrows shot up and two spots of colour appeared high on her cheeks. “Really?” she squeaked.

“Yeah.” Ginny laughed. “I mean, only if you want—”

“Yes! Where did you want to go? When?”

The track changed, and something deep and full of bass began to blast. Pansy hurried over to switch it off— Ginny noticed with a pleasant swell of pride that she was too scattered to do it wandlessly. She turned the track off and picked up the whip next to the stereo, ready to throw it in the box with the others.

The sight of the prop in Pansy’s hand again, now that whatever was between them was open and possible, filled Ginny with heat. She bit her lip, wondering if she should just get a hold of herself and squash it down, or if her brother was right and honesty really was the best policy.

“How do you—” Ginny began, searching for the words.

Pansy turned to her, the whip dangling from her hands.

Ginny gulped. “How do you feel about sex?”

“What?” Pansy yelped, taking a step back, straight into the wall-length mirror. “What do you—” She cleared her throat. “What do you mean, how do I feel about sex?”

Crap.

Ginny held her hands up, hastily trying to explain. “Well, you don’t seem very interested in that, but, I know you’re _interested_ —you just said—and I just wanted you to know that I’m interested even if you’re not interested in sex. But, I mean, if you are interested in sex, I’m down for that too. Very down. Very, very down.”

The fan whirred in the background, ticking away its frustrating rhythm as they stared at each other. Pansy’s jaw had grown slack, her eyes wide and incredulous. Her gaze turned distant.

“I don’t seem—” she began, her voice as quiet as a huff of breath. Then her eyes snapped back to Ginny, full of fire. “I don’t seem interested in sex because I have _propriety_ , you wanker, and I’m not going to make it obvious to a class of giggling Harpies that I want to throw you down on the floor and lick you ‘til you’re screaming my name. Merlin!” Then, she tossed the whip away, crossed the floor in two strides, and pulled Ginny into a bruising kiss.

This time, it was Ginny who squeaked. It quickly became a moan as Pansy slid her hands into Ginny’s hair, knocking her bun loose and pulling her down. She dropped her hands to Pansy’s waist, running her fingers along the edge of her bodysuit, tracing the skin as she walked Pansy slowly backward to the table where the stereo sat.

They somehow bumped the controls, and the track they had just switched off came back on, the bass throbbing, filling them. Pansy’s lips parted, her tongue sliding against Ginny’s as they deepened the kiss, soft moans punctuating the rhythm.

“I didn’t know you liked girls,” Pansy murmured, dropping her mouth to Ginny’s jaw and leaving a trail of kisses down to her collarbone. “Or I would have asked sooner.”

Ginny snorted, the sound quickly morphing into a moan as Pansy slid her hands beneath Ginny’s shirt and pulled it straight over her head.

“Of course I like girls,” she snapped, trying to play it at least a little cool to cover how desperately she wanted Pansy on top of her right now. “Do I need a t-shirt or something?”

She felt Pansy grin against her neck. “It would help,” she said primly, just before she nipped down hard. “And maybe some matching underwear.”

Ginny’s head fell back with another groan, and Pansy took the opportunity to pull the cord on Ginny’s joggers and shove them off.

“Hey!” Ginny yelped. “No fair—you’re still fully dressed!”

Pansy smirked, spinning them around until Ginny was perched on the edge of the table instead. “Babe, this leotard is a nightmare.” She leant down and mouthed against Ginny’s shoulder. “Let me take care of you instead.”

With that, she slid her hands lower, walking her fingers down Ginny’s stomach until she was teasing the top of her underwear. She slipped her fingers inside just enough to pull on the elastic and let it snap back against Ginny’s hip.

Ginny gasped and rolled her hips forward. With a quiet laugh, Pansy stopped teasing and slid her fingers downward. Before long, Ginny’s eyes were closed, her entire focus centred on the gentle fingers stroking her. Pansy smiled against Ginny’s heated skin as she left open-mouthed kisses everywhere in reach, keeping the same steady rhythm no matter how much Ginny writhed beneath her.

The music pulsed around them, the bass thumping into the centre of their bodies. Again, there was an undercurrent there—something not heard in the rhythm, but felt in the soul—and it made the matching slide of Pansy’s fingers across her clit feel like it was encompassing her completely.

She reached out blindly to pull Pansy back into a kiss, and when she opened her eyes it was to the sight of her dance instructor completely flushed and gasping. Pansy’s hooded eyes watched her in rapture. It was almost enough to send her over the edge, and when their lips met in a crash of desire and heat and desperate longing, it pushed her over until she was moaning Pansy’s name into her mouth.

“Fuck,” she groaned, leaning back against the stereo and panting. “Please tell me you don’t have another class on today.”

Pansy pushed her hair out of her eyes—the familiar, smug smile back on her face—and shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Then let’s get you home and out of that bodysuit.” Ginny’s eyes fell to Pansy’s hips, and she reached forward to tug them until Pansy was standing between her legs.

A quiet, disbelieving part of her was revelling in the fact that she was actually allowed to.

“Best idea you’ve had all day,” Pansy purred, looping her hands around Ginny’s neck and kissing her softly.

“And next week, you can come to our first game,” Ginny said, smiling against Pansy’s lips. “If you want to, of course.”

Pansy pulled back with a laugh, a sheepish expression on her face.

“What?”

“I come to all your games.”

Ginny’s chest filled with warmth. She raised an eyebrow in mock seriousness. “Am I going to get back to your flat and find it covered in Harpies posters?”

Pansy snorted. “Hardly. Though I think we should go to yours instead. Mine’s not clean.” Her eyes slid away.

Ginny gaped at her and then crowed in delight. “I am, aren’t I? Do you have the limited edition green bedsheets with the gold trim?”

A flush rose on Pansy’s cheeks again. “What? No! I don’t have anything!”

“You do!” She slid her hands lower, pulling Pansy back in and kissing her gently on the lips. “But fine, we can go to mine. We’ll just go to yours next time.”

“Next time.” Pansy’s smile was bright and hopeful.

A wandless flick of Pansy’s wrist and an _Accio_ brought the discarded clothing into her hand, sending another surge of want flooding through Ginny’s stomach. Wasting no time, Ginny Apparated them home.

Conveniently, the only wandless magic Ginny could show off that night involved _Wingardium Leviosa_ and a stolen whip.


End file.
